


December Lovers

by offwiththeirheads



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offwiththeirheads/pseuds/offwiththeirheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their eyes grow wide and jaws fall slack. “What?” blue eyes blurts out, “Both of our flights are delayed for 3 days and you have only one room left?”</p><p>Or the one where Harry and Louis, two strangers are headed for England but the weather's bad in England so their flights are delayed for 3 days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December Lovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wankerville](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wankerville/gifts).



> I want to thank [Wankerville](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/) for being my motivator, she's been a huge help and people like that deserve to be acknowledged even if it's something small.  
> I also want to thank [Giselle](http://keepcalmandreadfic.tumblr.com/) for conducting this Christmas fic challenge, it's taught me to at least do things with a deadline, it's helped me to stop procastinating.
> 
> This fic may not be perfect but I worked hard on it, three days and sleepless nights and my beta is on vacation so if there's any errors in here feel free to point them out until I've got this re edited.  
> Hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.  
> Also a very happy birthday to boobear Louis, he's turning 23, proud of him.

It’s winter break at Uni and Harry has been desperately looking forward to it. He hasn’t seen his family in six months and that’s a pretty long time for him if you exclude the weekly phone calls he's made.

See, it’s not that it was boring at uni, he has a completely moronic room mate who studies last minute for exams and hits bars every Friday because according to him “Who wants to spend the weekend sober?” Yeah right, Niall also happens to be dating art prodigy Zayn Malik.

Zayn with the dark hair, chocolate eyes, symmetrical facial structure and damn his chiselled jawline is something. Sometimes Harry wonders what on earth he's doing as an art student when he could be one of the top models in a fashion show. Just his jawline would have the audience captivated. No, he was not pulling on his best mate’s lover, absolutely not but well… maybe he is craving just a tiny bit for a relationship like theirs.

The two of them had woken up early this morning which is very unusual since Zayn absolutely hates waking up at the arse crack of dawn and that usually ends up in Niall going back to sleep. Somehow they hadn’t wanted to miss his departure and Niall attempted to prepare him a proper English breakfast.

This is what he loves about his friends; they can be complete idiots in love and tease him endlessly, even embarrass him yet be the most caring people who’d be there in a second when he needed them.

The two chaps bid him farewell and a safe journey at the airport, before backing out of the car park and driving away. It isn’t the first time they’re doing it, besides they know Harry will eventually skype them every week. He’s glad they had dropped him off so he didn’t need to take a cab or the bus. Unfortunately he hadn’t thought of wearing a beanie and now he has to keep shaking his curls free from the flurries whilst both his hands are lugging a suitcase and a travel bag. Sue, him he likes to be organized.

The weather is being inconsiderably heavy today and Harry is trudging ankle deep through the snow in the parking lot, trying not to shiver, even though he is wearing at least three layers of clothing.

                “This is terrible”, he mutters under his breath as his teeth chatter. He loves winter; it’s the best season all year around but not in this particular moment. He had forgotten to set his alarm the night before which ended up in him being late so he just threw on whatever warm clothing he could find, tallying the time to spend breakfast with his best mates and it was particularly Niall’s fault. He had been the one who insisted on going to the bar for a lads night out before Harry leaves and it’s a wonder in itself how the Irish fella managed to wake up early and even prepare a decent breakfast.

When finally Harry reaches the entrance doors, he sighs in relief and drops his luggage by some chairs at the entrance. The inside is warm, the air that’s circulating through the airport searches for openings in Harry’s jacket so he unzips it halfway down, letting the air warm him up.   He sighs in content relief. The freezing cold almost had him numb and frozen even if he hadn’t been out for long. Okay, maybe he is over exaggerating a little.

Right now, all he needs is something hot, scalding and full of caffeine. A nice cup of coffee, perhaps a Caffé latte would do and just as if the Universe is in his favour, he spots a stall through his peripheral vision. Patting his back pocket to make sure that his wallet is in place, he pulls his jacket tighter around himself, takes a quick glance at his luggage and heads towards the stand. Honestly he can smell the strong flavour of a variety of coffee wafting all the way to him and it only makes him salivate for it.

The cashier is a blonde female who looks up at him when he approaches and does a quick scan of him before asking what he wants.

“A caffé latte please. Thanks”, he replies shifting from one foot to another.

It barely takes a second for her to fix a cup when someone aggressively pushes Harry aside and pants, “Two lattes please. I’m in a hurry.”

Harry looks at him bewildered and feeling disrespected by a short male but he understands being in a hurry. He can only see the back of the guy’s head, tousled sandy hair and his fingers are twitching where they lay by his side. The girl rolls her eyes but nonetheless leaves Harry’s cup on the counter to prepare the stranger’s order.

“How much?” he asks her after the guy has left.

“Three dollars and seventy three cents”, she heftily replies holding out a hand onto which he drops his cash before turning to leave. The drink immediately warms his hands, the light heat in the liquid passing through the Styrofoam cup and onto his skin forming a thin coat of warm air on his hand.

He walks back to the waiting chairs; the colour of their cushions – a light red - is a perfect symbolism of his current feelings of elation – well if you’ve got a good coffee in hand and enough caffeine in your system that’s how you’d feel - and shoulders his travel bag whilst lugging his suitcase along. He needs to make it through check in and then he can rest his tired feet.

Just when he thinks the place couldn’t get any louder, the closer his boot clad feet reaches the queue lined up at the check in desks, the more amplified are the sounds of the people mulling about. Machines are buzzing; there are raised whispers of holiday spirit, children yelling louder than the adults in the room, babies crying as if they’d been stepped on.

He should be used to this by now considering that he’s done this for a year and a half now and he’s got a feeling that it’s all down to the fact that he was late. He’s never really been late in his life; it adds a bad mark to his personality. Niall’s made fun of him for that, telling him to “fucking relax and enjoy your youth.”

Harry manages to check in just in time, avoiding a very grumpy mother, whose child keeps whining beside her for whatever reason he has not the slightest idea but he knows he doesn’t want to be there to face a stranger’s wrath to add to his mood although he did pity the poor toddler. At the baggage drop, he watches his dark blue cobalt suitcase sitting among the variety of other suitcases leave on the conveyer belt and brings his cup of coffee to his lips for a sip.

“Well then, I’m off to a start”, he thinks now that he only needs to wait for the announcement to board the plane.

He breezes through security and enters the waiting room on the other side of the clearance area which looks inviting; their dark blue cushions gives a vibe of warmth and the foot rests are calling his feet. He doesn’t register it until he’s hit by the incoming force, body slamming right into him with an “oomph” and Harry immediately rushes to apologize.

The stranger mutters a quick, “So sorry mate”, pats him on the shoulder and heads off to the escalators, while speaking into the phone wedged between his head and shoulder. A simple glance at the man’s retreating figure confirms Harry’s identification of the man at the stall earlier. He drops his travel bag with a plop and takes a seat, resting his back against the soft cushions, his feet propped upon the foot rest. A sigh of content escapes his lips as he shuts his eyes and prepares to nap, his hands folded across his stomach and the cooling cup of left over coffee resting in the cup holder.

*

When Harry’s phone begins to ring - basically he set up the alarm in case he fell asleep – there’s still no announcement for his plane departure. Groggily he scrubs his eyes, clearing his vision and willing himself to properly wake up. He glances at the Styrofoam cup of coffee that’s cold to the touch still seated in the cup holder and decides to dump it in the trash. Whilst doing so he keeps glancing at his watch which is wrapped snugly around his wrist, covering his anchor tattoo, every few seconds.

Had he missed the announcement? Did the plane take off early? Trying not to panic, he decides to inquire a few people of the current situation. He’s a bit confused too, considering that the waiting room isn’t exactly empty which has to mean he hasn’t missed his flight.

Of course everyone else who’s bound to fly to England is as antsy and unaware as he is which isn’t much help at all and time keeps ticking away which isn’t helping either. He can’t spot a single information desk in sight to inquire of the dilemma until ten minutes later the intercom crackles to life and a high – pitched female voice announces that the flight to England has been cancelled due to bad weather and will only be prepared to fly in three days’ time.

This causes the most of the people in the room groan out in frustration. Harry rakes his fingers through his hair in irritation. When the announcement finishes off with a, “We’re extremely sorry for the delay. Please stay safe and thank you”, Harry decides to quit whining about the ruckus and dump his frustration to find a place to stay for three days.

An easy out one would’ve taken would be to crash at the airport but this wasn’t for one night, besides Harry wasn’t exactly a fan of being in the same outfit for three whole days, without a shower and clean hair. His poor back wouldn’t survive on those resting chairs either, even if they were cushioned. He needs to find a hotel and fast considering basically three quarters of the people in the room are already clearing out.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and dials Niall’s number, waiting for the familiar ringtone. When he picks up, he’s greeted with short breaths, “Hey mate! What’s up?”

“Whoa Niall,” he chuckles, feeling himself beginning to relax, “Shagging already?”

Niall is silent on the other side for a few seconds, an indication that he’s blushing at having been caught and Harry decides to diffuse the awkwardness, “Anyway so my flight has been delayed since the weather is too bad in England”

“What the…” Niall starts before saying, “How long?”

“Three days”, Harry deadpans.

“Three whole days?” Niall exclaims, “Wow didn’t think England would be snowing heavily.”

Harry shrugs and shoulders his bag, “You’re from Ireland, you would know.”

“Should we come pick you up?” he asks next.

“No,” Harry rushes to say, “I’ll book into a hotel”

“Harry,” Niall says, “That’s going to be expensive.”

“It’s easier though, I might have got some saved up”, Harry admits, it isn’t that he's poor or anything, he doesn’t think he has any for convenience at the moment, “I’ll book into one near the airport”.

“Well alright,” Niall cautions, “Just ring us if there’s anything.

“Thanks, I will,” Harry replies, “Happy shagging by the way.”

“Oh bugger off,” Niall groans.

Harry laughs, “Love ya Ni. Give my love to Zaynie too.”

“Will do,” Niall is probably grinning, “Love you too. Stay safe.”

“Thanks. Same to you wanker,” Harry replies before hanging up just as he passes through the security barriers.

There’s a lesser crowd past the desks and security checks now, a lesser buzz, calming.

All he has to do now is to search for the hotels nearest to the airport and of course just like every other sane person, he googles it, much easier than searching for flyers or instructions.

Minutes later he’s shuffling through the glass doors into the lobby of New York Hilton Midtown which is in a sea of mild chaos, there’s too many people compared to a normal day, booking in at the reception desks.

Harry takes long strides and takes a place behind the short queue. It’s his lucky day. Once the elderly man in front of him leaves to the elevators with a key in hand, Harry plasters a huge smile onto his face – secretly hoping he could pay a smaller price for three days – and places a hand on the desk. Just as he is about to open his mouth and utter his request, someone else barrels to his side, huffing to regain his breath and breathes out, “I’m looking for –“, he cuts off midway, noticing the extra hand on the desk.

Slowly he peels his gaze away and follows Harry’s hand all the way upwards and notices the stunned expression Harry is sporting.

“Oh I’m so sorry”, he apologizes sheepishly, stepping aside. The first thing Harry notices is his beryl eyes, he likes the colour very much so, they sparkle which is the main reason he is entranced by them. Other than that his mind is turning the cogs, trying to match this guy to the stranger at the airport he’d bumped into a couple of times because he is very familiar. Shaking his head to get rid of his thoughts, he gives the guy a smile and turns to the receptionist. All the while she’d been eyeing the pair of them.

“I was looking for a room with a single bed for three days”, he requests.

The brunette in her grey skirt suit and smouldered make up quirks an eyebrow releases a breath and begins typing on her computer. The keys clack beneath her bright red nails. Meanwhile, the stranger who doesn’t seem to be but a few years older than him remains quiet, picking at his hangnail.

Finally the receptionist sighs and instead of looking at Harry turns to face blue eyes. Yes _blue eyes_. That’s a nice name.

“I assume you’re looking for a room too?” she asks

Blue eyes glances at Harry for a brief moment before nodding his head and replies, “A single bed for three days, yeah.”

The receptionist seems to wither under their gazes, looking tense. “I’m so sorry; we’ve only got one room left.”

Their eyes grow wide and jaws fall slack. “What?” blue eyes blurts out, “Both of our flights are delayed for 3 days and you have only one room left?”

 _“Wait!”_ Harry thinks, _“How the hell does he know that? He’s got to be the guy from the airport definitely.”_

The girl curls into herself and Harrys begins to feel sorry for her. “It’s okay,” he’s quick to reassure them both, in a way, “I can find another place.”

The girl looks almost relieved when blue eyes interrupts, “No! You were here first, I’ll find a place.”

Before Harry can protest, the receptionist is already on their case, sensing the fact that the two of them would continue arguing, it looks like that anyway, “You could share. The fee would be halved even.” That quirks both of their interests and they glance at each other before deflating.

“There’s only one bed,” they chorus.

“Right, we’ll provide a couch?” the girl offers.

“Okay,” blue eyes agrees, then turns to face Harry, “You in?”

Harry nods.

It doesn’t take long for the brunette to fill in their names and produce a set of two keys with their room number imprinted on it. They pay a fee for their advancement deposit fees; thanks the girl and heads over to the elevators with their travel bags.

“I recognize you from the airport.” Blue eyes breaks the silence.

“I thought I did too”, Harry replies as they get into the lift, “How’d you know my flight was delayed?”

“Didn’t take long to figure it out”, blue eyes shrugs, “A hotel room for three days and bumping into each other twice at the airport.”

Harry huffs a laugh that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I’m Harry.” He offers instead.

“And I’m Louis.” Blue eyes shakes his hand.

Harry’s eyes go wide for a brief moment at the mention of the name. Maybe it’s the fact that he’d been accustomed to calling him blue eyes all along or the simple feeling of warmth blossoming in his chest. _A beautiful name for a beautiful boy_.Or man?

Harry watches the shorter boys’ features as they change from contemplative to fond. He’s hooked onto the pure, pretty blue of his like that of Disney princesses.

Harry shakes himself to get back into reality, when they land on their designated floor, gives Louis a bright smile and gets out of the elevator, digging in his pocket for their room key.

Once they enter the room, they take a good look at it. It’s simple and small, speaks for its price. There’s an over-sized chair with ottoman, in-room safe, flat-screen TV with a full selection of HD programming, bathtub and, glass shower, some side tables, a chair, wardrobe feather and down pillows, and luxurious striped linens.

“Home sweet home.” Louis sighs throwing himself onto the bed.

Harry chuckles at Louis’ vain attempt at a joke, his eyes crinkling at the edges and sets his bag down carefully by the door as he shuts it.

“Don’t laugh curly,” Louis points a finger, “I bet you’re no better than me.”

“I assure you I am.” Harry toes off his shoes before looking up at Louis with his arms crossed.

“Alright,” Louis looks smug, “I challenge you to top mine.”

Harry feels his cheeks colour and his mind guarantees that it was the slip of the tongue and Louis probably wasn’t even aware of what he’d just said. How can he not blush though, he’s sharing a room with an attractive guy for fucks sake.

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat, accepting the challenge and Louis seems to be anticipating the words, “What flavour cookies do Scotts eat?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow and he knows this is going to be a downright lame joke like his sisters try a hand at but he goes along with it, “Chocolate?”

“No”, Harry laughs before composing himself, “Butterscotts. Get it? Like butterscotch but instead it’s butterscotts.”

Louis stares at him then erupts into light laughter. Well the joke was actually good. It did make sense for once. Harry’s proud of himself for not fucking up in front of Louis and pats himself on the back.

“That was actually very good.”

“Thank you”, Harry bows politely, beaming, no one had ever taken his jokes seriously before, they were too invested in laughing at Harry to annoy him, “Did you have breakfast?”

“No”, Louis shakes his head, “Just a latte this morning with my mate.”

Harry gives a nod of his head to let him know that he heard him. He’s going through his bag, searching for a pair of gloves and his beanie.

“Where are you going?” Louis asks from where he’s snuggled cosily on the bed. Harry has the urge to wrap himself in the duvet beside him.

“Out,” Harry shakes his mound of long overgrown hair before slipping on his beanie, “It’s too good to waste a day in.”

At that Louis scrambles off the bed and begins digging in his beige travel bag. “I’m coming along.”

“Okay.” Harry leans against the doorframe and watches Louis fumble to put on his coat and hat. They lock the door and go down to the lobby once he’s dressed, waving to the receptionist on the way.

“Do you want to stop somewhere for something to stomach?” Harry stuffs his hands in his coat pockets.

“I don’t mind.” Louis gives a shrug.

“Let’s get something to eat then.” Harry decides knowing full well that Louis is probably hungry because a latte isn’t going to provide a filling breakfast. He should know because he’s a good cook.

They keep to themselves throughout the journey until they reach the Momofuki Milk Bar. Harry pushes the glass door using the handle but it just won’t open which makes him furrow his eyebrows. He keeps pushing at it determinedly feeling a bit stupid in a way because he’s pretty sure the people in the café are watching him and snickering over the fact that he’s struggling to push open a simple glass door.

That is until he hears someone giggling behind him. He flushes red, embarrassed and wishing the earth would swallow him up, no fuck that, he’d jump in front of an oncoming car or something. He knows its Louis because he’s the only other person around and it makes him feel even more of a goose. Louis begins laughing, clearly unable to stop his cute giggles from progressing into adorable laughs.

Harry turns around, his cheeks dusted in pink, wringing his fingers behind his back and mutters out a, “stop laughing.”

“It’s says pull.” Louis points out; there’s a laminated card hanging behind the glass and it’s got the words PULL in big black letters but when he sees Harry’s crestfallen face, he quickly adds, “It’s alright curly. We all have bad days.” With a pat on Harry’s beanie covered head, Louis pulls the door and enters the warm café, Harry following close behind.

The smell of caffeine and baked goods make their stomach flip, more like horses galloping. They choose a booth in the far corner next to a window, with a bagel bomb each, a cappuccino and a cup of tea.

“Did you come to the States for vacation?” Louis asks. He’s blowing on his tea and Harry’s watching his lips form an oval shape.

“No”, Harry says, “I study here. Just going to visit my family for Christmas. What about you?”

“Same”, Louis gives a smile, “I’ve missed the brats so much.”

“You have a lot of siblings then?” Harry assumes raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah”, Louis nods enthusiastically, “Five sisters and a brother. I miss being around them and the shenanigans they get up to, it’s a ruckus. Do you have any?”

“A sister, yes”, Harry smiles when he notices Louis’ fond face, “She’ll hopefully be home before I will. Her Uni is in London so it’s not really a flight to Cheshire.”

Louis gives a light chuckle before saying, “I’m sorry for you know, the mishaps at the airport, pushing past you and all that. I must have looked like a right dick.”

“It’s completely fine.” Harry waves a hand, his other nursing his cuppa, “where’s your home though?”

“I’m a Donny boy”, Louis’ smug, “Born, bred and raised there my whole life until Uni. Love it there.”

“Doncaster is nice I’ve heard”, Harry nods in agreement. Louis’ expression lights up as if someone’s just told him his Christmas present was coming early. Harry internally melts.

A stretched silence keeps raining down on them and they watch the little dots of snow that falls through the window, the chatter and noise in the café is a faint buzz in their ears. It’s a comfortable silence, not one where they have to struggle to come up with something to talk about.

Harry’s first encounters with his friends has always been a bit of like a measly worm trying to wriggle through a narrow hole but this felt as if he’d known Louis for ages. Mild tremors snake through his body.

The caffeine he’s been consuming isn’t hitting him lightly though, considering it’s his second dose this morning. He isn’t hyperactive or anything, definitely not, he’s just wide awake with a fully functioning brain. The things a coffee could do to a human body.

When he turns around, away from the window, he’s met with an adorable sight. Louis is pointedly staring at something behind him with a crossed eyed look and his tongue out. Curious, Harry turns around, a fond expression dressing his face when he sees a toddler. Yes, a cute, adorable little boy, looking over his mother’s shoulder over at their booth. He watches the child’s forlorn expression slowly crumble and the edges of his lips quirk up, a smile taking its place.

Harry can’t help but smile along with the child, because how can you not? He briefly glances at Louis and catches him making a variety of crossed eyed silly faces at the child. Harry keeps fliting his eyes from Louis to the kid, amusement dancing in his eyes and then he _giggles_. He fucking giggles. What kind of grown man giggles? He could only think of what Louis must be like around his siblings, a big brother protective stance and playfulness surrounding him. He probably lets his sisters play princess with him.

“What?” Louis looks at him, a light laugh falling from his lips.

Harry shakes his head, “Nothing, you have a way with kids.”

Louis pulls his tongue out instead and Harry pulls a face back at him just as he feels the tug of his hair at the nape of his neck. He winces slightly before turning around to see the toddler still looking over their booth, close to Harry, giggling uncontrollably. Little bursts of joy fall from his lips when he sees the pout Harry makes. He imagines having kids like this someday. Louis kicks him beneath the table and Harry kicks back.

“What’s your name cutie?” Harry asks the kid.

The toddler just giggles. Harry bops his nose, “I’m Harry.”

“Jamie”, the toddler manages to say and his mother immediately whips around, a panicked look on her face but when she sees Harry, she gives him a small smile and turns around. “I like your hair.”

Harry grins at that, “You do? It took me so long to grown it.” He makes a wide hand motion to demonstrate his point.

“Looks like a real princess doesn’t he?” Louis adds and Harry has to stifle a humorous groan in order to avoid upsetting the kid who’s wearing an ear splitting grin at Louis’ words.

“I like princesses,” the kid whispers and for a moment Harry’s puzzled as to why he’s whispering, he’s pretty sure Louis’ too but then the kid continues to dissipate their confusion, “Mummy doesn’t like it.”

 _Oh_. He wasn’t expecting that. He could already tell the kid was feeling forlorn by the cheerless whisper.

“Well Jamie, how about we get some cookies?”

His eyes light up like Christmas lights and he vigorously nods his head in agreement, too excited for words.

“Let’s go then,” Harry smiles standing up and offering a hand for Jamie who slides out of his mother’s hold when she deems Harry safe enough to entrust her son to.

Harry brings back a chocolate cookie for Louis and he gives him a smile – Harry is pretty sure his heart is trying to break through his ribcage – thanking him. “It was nice of you to do that, distracting Jamie.”

“Oh uh thanks,” Harry gives him a nervous glance, too afraid to look him straight in the eye, in case his cheeks were flushed, “Shall we head out?”

They retrace their steps towards their hotel but instead of entering it, Harry takes a detour and passes by, Louis hot on his heels. Their walk consists of passing shops, buildings and skyscrapers they don’t give a fuck about anyway until the central park within their eye range a few meters away.

“Oh my Gosh!” Louis gives a girly squeal. Honestly? And the next thing he’s grabbing Harry’s hand and running on his short legs towards the empty square, avoiding the zoo area of it (well not exactly empty if you count the few couples wandering about it), he was in no mood for visiting the zoo apparently, who even knew if it was open during winter time.

“Lou?” Harry laughs, completely amused by the younger boy’s change in demeanour that he misses the slip of the nickname. If Louis noticed he doesn’t choose to comment on it.

“We’ve gotta make some snow angels!” he’s giving a reply even before Harry’s got the words out for the rest of his question. Harry wonders if Louis knows how cute he is when he changes to a five year old within minutes.

Louis practically drags Harry through the park entrance, the grass is supposedly hidden beneath the sheets of white snow, the benches are coated in white and Harry cringes at the sight of a couple snogging each other’s faces off yet he feels elated because come on, its love for Christ’s sake. Harry feels the loss of warmth in his mitten less hands when Louis immediately lets go of him and drops onto the ground. Harry’s got an expression of utter admiration; he can feel his heart strings tugging. Who is this guy? And why is he making him feel weird?

“Get in here curly!” Louis insists. He’s lying on the snow, moving his arms back and forth, beaming. There’s a ray of light shining on him and it looks like he’s emitting a radiance of his own, an angel himself.

Harry refuses to let the poor guy down even if it’s going to make all his clothes wet by the time their done and by the looks of it, Louis wouldn’t leave in less than an hour.

He lies down beside the shorter boy and immediately hisses. The snow is cold to the bone, although he’s basically wearing layers of clothing, the icy water manages to seep through his clothes. He composes himself before moving his arms and legs in a similar rhythm and motion to Louis’. It has been awhile seen he’s done something like this.

By the time they’re done, Louis is a shivering mess and their hotel is almost a ten minute walk. He couldn’t let him catch a cold or worse than that, freeze to death. Harry shrugs off his black coat and drapes it over Louis before pulling him in to his side, hoping to transfer some form of heat to him. Louis gives him a warm smile in return, his eyes crinkling by the sides and that’s enough to have Harry’s cheeks heating up.

Together they trudge along the shovelled gravel pavement, what with a body pressed right against him, it’s a tad bit uncomfortable to walk in style but Louis fits just right int Harry’s side, it’s like a puzzle piece locked into place. Louis looks like a koala bear, huddled underneath a huge overcoat, squeezed right under Harry’s arms. Harry wants to mush his cheeks and peck him on the lips and _where the fuck_ did that thought come from? He looks away just in time as they reach the entrance doors to the hotel; one of the security guards sees them through the glass door and is quick to hold the door open for them. Harry says his thanks to the man before hopping into the elevator.

It’s a quick ride up and the two of them stumble into the room, Louis rushing to switch on the heater. An instant room service and two cups of hot chocolate later, they’re seated on the huge bed, tucked under the duvet.

“Sorry, I gave you so much trouble,” Louis’ looks bashful, hanging his head low, his cup of chocolate resting on his lap.

“Don’t apologize,” Harry scrambles to reassure him, “I enjoyed it so thank you.”

“But you’ve got wet clothes and there’s probably no way to get them dry,” Louis’ wide eyed at Harry’s proclamation of thanks.

“So are yours, they’ll dry out, it’s just water,” Harry shrugs, sipping from the steaming mug.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Louis’ face spilt into a smile and something makes his stomach churn, in a good way.

They spend the rest of the day indoors, watching reality TV under the covers and heading for the lobby just for dinner until bed time when Harry decides to skype his family. He swears he has no obsession with it.

Louis attempts to give Harry some privacy but he insists that Louis be present for the fun of it and so the blue eyed boy scoots closer to Harry who’s residing against the headboard of the bed, pillows propped all around him. Louis’ feet are clad in socks after Harry sternly implied that he doesn’t want his cold feet digging into his calves or he’d push him off the bed and they’re cute socks too, decorated in bright red bows.

Harry is holding his laptop on his folded knees, the red phone sign on the screen vibrating as the call rings and Louis tucked into his side. Honestly, he doesn’t even know how they’d gone from complete strangers to snuggle buddies, they’d got on from the very first moment. There’s the slight pop sound when Gemma answers the call and her face appears on the screen, a huge smile plastered on her face which alters into a smirk. She opens her mouth to express her thoughts when Harry cuts her off with a groan, “Don’t! I’m not bloody letting you do it again.”

She laughs, “Alright little brother, then tell me who this charming lad is.”

Now he’s wishing he’d called his mum instead, she understands more about privacy than his sister ever does. With a bashful chuckle, he pretends he isn’t squirming under the knowing look his sister’s giving him which Louis seems very curious about.

“I’m Louis,” Louis introduces himself with a small wave and Harry’s grateful.

“What circumstances has led you to be with my annoyingly bittersweet brother may I ask?” she makes a motion with her hands, clearly enjoying Harry’s discomfort. He’s gonna let the cat chew her favourite slippers, he knew that for sure.

“Our flight got delayed and now we’re stuck here for 3 days straight,” Louis makes a show of frustration to which Gemma giggles.

“Yeah,” Harry adds for effect.

“So you’re platonic bro pals then?” and _there!_ She’s gone and done it. Harry wants to bang his head on the screen for exaggeration.

Louis looks to Harry for some sort of further explanation, his eyebrows furrowed and lips quirked as if he knows something but isn’t sure how to approach it. Harry would give anything as of this moment to rewind and not have this conversation.

“No, we’re fuck buddies,” Harry deadpans. Louis lets out a gasp and Gemma cackles, catching onto the sarcasm.

“Nice going brother.”

“That’s not very nice Harold,” Louis pouts, when he finally understands the interpretation of Harry’s statement. He looks so cute like that, hands crossed on his chest, his thin bottom lip jutting out and nose wrinkled like a kid who’d been denied his favourite toy. Harry stares at him, thinking of the things he could do to those pretty lips until Gemma loudly clears her throat to grab their attention because now Louis’ staring back at Harry too and she is feeling pretty pleased with herself for cleverly handling a _still-to-approach-unknown-feelings_ situation yet detached from the loop.

Harry feels like he’s been blushing too much and it’s only been one day for fucks sake but Louis’ cheeks have a rising colour too and therefore he hopes no one decides to take the mickey out of either of them, even if it’s only Gemma in the room and well you can’t really know what her crazy mind is up to.

“How’s Niall?” she chooses to ask instead, clearly feeling like she has invaded the two boys’ territory enough.

 _'Not even a how are you?'_ he wants to ask instead “Probably shagging his boyfriend,” Harry replies. He’s been cheeky today and his sister does notice but barely says anything.

“Oh Malik you mean. That beautiful, handsome God,” she moons.

“Hey now, don’t go hitting on my best mate’s man,” Harry playfully scolds her and Louis laughs beside him. His heart warms at the fact that he’s making Louis laugh. His laugh has got so much life in it, he wishes he could curl into it; it’s a symphony to his ears.

Gemma pulls her tongue out at him, “I wasn’t the one who nearly kissed him at the bar.” Harry huffs. “You’re from somewhere in Yorkshire?” she directs her question at Louis and he nods his head.

“Thought so. You're accent gives it away.” she mumbles smiling before turning around at the noise from her bedroom door and beckons the person to come forth. A woman who looks to be in her early forties appear right next to Gemma, they both look alike and Harry’s got her very features which is easy for Louis to assume it’s his mother if the facial features are anything to give away by.

“Mum,” Harry greets her enthusiastically, “This is Louis. Louis this is my mum Anne.”

“Hi Mrs. Styles,” Louis greets her in a similar fashion adding a wave to it.

“Call me Anne sweetheart,” she nudges Gemma to scoot over, “I don’t think I know you?”

“Oh we met just today or you could say at the airport,” Harry quickly says, glad that his mum had sweetly put in the question.

Anne quirks an eyebrow at that, smiles at Louis and asks, “So you’re coming home?”

“Ah yeah,” Harry scratched his neck nervously, “Wanted it to be a surprise but I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“It wasn’t exactly gonna be a surprise anyway,” Louis points out, “I exposed the cat to Gemma.”

Gemma smirks, “The thing is no matter what kinda surprise there is, I always find out before it happens so you’re not at fault.”

“She’s very nasty,” Harry adds just to wind up his sister, “Knows how to enter the vast expanse of your brain to pick at the secret stuff.”

That gets them all laughing. Harry likes this, he’s happy and it’s comfortable, it feels like home. It delights him that Louis fits in so easily with his family; they get along well for the rest of the night. The two boys eventually grow sleepy and then Harry’s mum is bidding them a good night whilst Gemma flicks at the screen wishing she could really flick them on the foreheads.

*

They spend the next day in New York City visiting the statue of liberty and being mesmerized by the view before taking the new York Water Taxi where they could basically see the New York City, the New Jersey skylines as well as the Empire State Building, Brooklyn Bridge and Governors Island including the liberty statue which they simply pass by. Louis has never bothered to go sightseeing when he’d first come to the States and Harry felt the need to take him around and Louis simply couldn’t pass up the offer especially when it’s a tall, curly, sweet cherub of a boy- man or man - boy asking him with those puppy dog eyes.

When they head to bed that night, its past twelve reminding that they’ve had a very expedient day.

Half an hour into the night, Harry is almost drifting off when he feels the bed shift and a warm body slipping next to him.

“Lou?” he asks groggily, trying to turn around but an arm winds around his waist, holding him firmly.

“Couldn’t sleep Haz,” Louis mumbles sleepily, “It’s cold. I won’t do anything, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about you doing anything,” Harry chuckles, backing into Louis’ touch, folding his legs and trying to be as small as possible. He likes this position; he loves being spooned, “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night Harold.”

Harry’s last thought before finally falling asleep is wishing he could feel Louis’ warmth every day for the rest of his life but of course, he’s groggy and drowsy and fucking sleepy, you can’t blame him for his unfiltered thoughts. At least that’s what he tells himself the next morning.

*

It’s the last day of their stay at the hotel which is another way of saying that it’s their last day together. Even though they both refuse to acknowledge it, they both feel the ebbing emptiness begin to claw at them, they both fear of what’s to come the next day. Some part of them doesn’t want to part, it’s a bucket of ice cold water on them, its reality, something they can’t avoid, no one can avoid and they needed to face it. Perhaps they could ask for contact numbers but they were mere strangers not two days ago and even though it was sheer luck being roomed together unexpectedly neither of them wants to reach out and take a hold of the situation.

Harry knows if Gemma was here, she’d actually give him a slap on the back of his head, ask him to grow a pair and go do what’s right but she isn’t here and Harry is merely too scared to do anything. His heart is going cold, it’s burning, asking him to do something, asking him to avoid the pain he’s surely going to encounter once he leaves Louis’ presence but his mind is too weak, too scared, and too aware of the pain that he’s going to feel if Louis does actually stick around and they become nothing more than just friends. He doesn’t want that, he’s finally beginning to listen to his feelings.

He realizes that he actually wants to be able to hold Louis at night and kiss him endlessly, to take him on cheesy dates and make him laugh. He wants to be Louis’ everything, his world and how that’s all been in his mind all along he doesn’t know but he knows that if he walks away in the end, he’s going to lose the one thing he never thought he’d ever find.

At around half past eight after tea, they decide to just take a walk around the area close to the hotel and not venture too far but in actual honesty, they both wanted a last glance, a last breath of the place they first met and bonded over. Harry’s wearing his black coat again, now perfectly dry and his long curls aren’t tucked in a beanie instead loosely flying in the slight breeze, he’s silent, watching Louis out of the corner of his eye. Louis’ in a similar stance, his body swallowed in a long sleeves Christmas jumper, his ears hidden from the biting cold in a trapper hat that looks like some kind of panda bear, it brings a smile to Harry’s face, even with a growing stubble and turning twenty three in a few days, Louis still manages to look so young. He’s growing on Harry each day.

It was this morning when Louis accidently let slip about how he was not feeling young at all when he made a dramatic show of plucking a grey hair in the bathroom and that turning twenty three wasn’t making him feel any better. That’s when Harry prodded at him to when his birthday was and with a huff and a slump, Louis told him, even though there was a wavering beam he refused to show at the fact that sweet Harry wanted to know this small part of him, even if it was his fucking birthday that literally made him want to throw himself in a casket.

And Harry is determined to get something for Louis and make his last day memorable. The city is literally basking in Christmas lights, tall decorated Christmas trees every corner and carols can be heard blasting from the radios in nearby stores. It’s a spectacle, the lights that are carefully woven around lamp posts and trees even in the oddest of places like a fire hydrant are making the snow sparkle.

Louis himself is a shiny ball of energy, an evident skip in his steps as he takes all his surroundings in which clearly conveys he isn’t studying in New York probably in some other city. Harry has seen all of this many a time, sometimes when he’d gone bowling with Niall and Zayn.

_Bowling!_

That is. That’s what they can do.

“Come on,” Harry tugs at Louis’ hand, “We’re going to do something.”

“Really?” he sounds surprised as if he’s wanted to do something fun the entire time but was too timid to put forth his idea.

“Yeah.” Harry nods and his fingers involuntarily slip through the spaces in Louis’, locking effortlessly into place and feels the heat radiate off his hands.

Harry’s nervous, body tense as he waits for the rejection he knows will come but instead Louis tightens his hold, gives a quick squeeze and asks, “What are we doing then?”

The taller boy is relieved to say the least and grins, “We’re going bowling!”

Louis’ eyes are sparkling when Harry looks at him for approval or anything really as long as it’s a happy response, “Let’s do that. I’m gonna beat your arse.”

“You’re one to talk,” Harry scoffs, feeling himself relax from all the thinking he’d done this morning.

“No one outdoes the tommo!” Louis says in mock exclaim, a hand coming up to his chest, “And if I win, you’re gonna give me your most prized possession.”

Harry puts on a fake hurt expression but in all honesty, he feels giddy at the thought of Louis wearing his clothes, his most prized possession is his purple Christmas sweater. He simply loves the colour and feel of it but now he doesn’t care in the slightest bit that someone else is gonna own it and that’s Louis. If Louis says no one beats him then no one does, Harry’s still gonna hope though but at the same time he wants to lose so Louis gets his sweater.

“Okay,” Harry agrees, “Deal. Let’s shake on it.”

So the two of them seal the deal and enter the Lucky Strike – a 9 minute walk from the hotel. There aren’t that many people, a few students and a family. Louis gets his shoes and sits on one of the stools to tie them, Harry sitting beside him.

He notices how small Louis’ feet are; lately he’s been noticing all these tiny things, even the way Louis munches on his food. He’s _disgustingly in love_ , that’s what Niall would have said. Louis keeps getting his laces tangled, partly because his seat is a bit too high and his feet aren’t exactly touching the ground which makes him unbalanced and also because he’s got nimble fingers.

Harry finishes his shoes in quick succession before hopping off the stool, kneeling down, and batting Louis’ hands away. He can feel the burn of his stare at the back of his neck and it’s making him feel good. He deftly ties the laces and stands up, extending a hand to Louis. The shorter boy whispers a _thank you_ , he looks dazed. Harry shies away from his look and goes to pick a ball.

“Pink? Really Harry?” Louis snickers when he sees the ball Harry’s has picked.

“What?” Harry pouts, “Just because you’re manly and rugged.”

“Oooo”, Louis wiggles his eyebrows, “You think I’m rugged? Thanks curly.”

“Shut up you.”

Louis picks up a bigger ball than Harry’s just because he wants to impress the younger boy but it doesn’t mean he can’t carry the heavy object nonetheless.

They pick an alley for both of them and glance at each other, a daring look in their eyes before Louis takes a step forward, aims, swings his hand back and throws the ball with as much force as he can and _strike!_

Now Harry has to try to beat him. Screw him if he loses.

Louis eventually wins, he’s too good at it and Harry’s just a mass of gangly limbs, deer feet, completely losing balance and then where the ball strikes is all to be blamed on his poor coordination.

Harry pulls his purple sweater down on Louis once in their room and Louis takes off his own one. He’s smiling, glowing in happiness and Harry’s jovial to be the cause of it.

Louis wants to make a blanket fort and it’s their last night, Harry would do anything to make it as unforgettable as possible. He wants to leave a mark in the other boy’s life even if it’s only for three days.

They gather the table and chair and props the mattress quite a distance away from the wardrobe then drapes the sheets over them, the furniture around the outer corners supporting the cloth. The remaining sheets go under the roof on the floor and Louis neatly arranges the pillows around before assuring Harry that he’d be back with some popcorn and drinks from the snack bar in the lounge.

Harry takes this time to rummage through his travel bag for the gift he’d gotten around lunch time when he was out and places it under the bed, just within his reach from under the fort.

Louis comes back, hands ladled in a bucket of popcorn and two cans of soda. “Let’s get this party started curly,” he hollers. Harry excitedly gets under the fort, grabbing the food and drinks from his hand and placing them outside the fort in front of them. He lies on his front, his legs raised up from the knees, swinging them like a little school girl and then Louis joins him after switching on the TV, crawling into Harry’s space just because he can.

“Don’t struggle too much and knock this down,” Louis gestures to the fort they had effortlessly made, “Your movement is absolute shit.”

Harry pretends to look offended but then Louis pops popcorn into his mouth and they’re giggling on top of each other, watching a random movie on the HBO channel.

When they’re done with their first movie and the bucket of popcorn is empty except for a few unpopped kernels and empty soda cans, he carefully sits up - Louis’ eyes following his every move – and reaches for the wrapped gift under the bed. Louis’ eyes go wide when he holds it out to him.

“Happy early birthday Lou,” Harry’s feeling vulnerable but at least it’s dark.

“You got me a birthday gift?” Louis asks incredulously.

                “Yeah…wanted to. I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent together and…” _I like you_ he wants to say but goes for, “I wanted to give you something to remember our time together by.”

                Harry doesn’t know if he’s imaging the tears glistening in Louis’ eyes or whether it’s the faint light from the television screen but he doesn’t have time to absorb it before Louis’ throws himself at Harry. He’s hugging him tight as if his life depends on it, as if he’s scared of letting go but he calms down enough to sit back and delicately tear away the wrapping paper. It’s a photo of the two of them Harry had insisted on taking at the statue of liberty, inside a mahogany frame and an intricate design of vines in the corners. Louis absently runs a finger across their faces, too elated and bubbles of affection frothing within him.

                “Do you like it?” Harry asks meekly.

                “Like it? I love it Hazza,” Louis cries out and this time there’s definitely tears in his eyes, one trickles and Harry catches it before it falls off. It’s only then it hits him that he’s holding Louis’ face in his hand and slowly retracts it so as not to upset the already emotional boy.

                Harry flops on the pillows and mushes his face in the pillows, “I’m glad you like it Lou. Let’s get to bed.”

                Louis stares at the photo for a few more minutes, ruffles a sleepy Harry’s tousled curls and slips out still in Harry’s sweater to carefully wrap the framed photo in a few clothing and inside the deepest pocket in his travel bag.

                When he gets back to bed, Harry’s too sluggish to even form a sentence; he just wraps an arm around the elder boy and snuggles closer to him in a foetus position. Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s long hair, massaging the boy’s scalp and Harry leans into his touch, nuzzling into his chest.

                That’s how they fall asleep on their last day together.

*

They wake up to Harry’s alarm ringing a horrendous tune with Louis swatting at him to shut it off. They’re in a mess of tangled limbs, Harry’s head full of curls in Louis’ face, Louis’ rose smelling perfume hitting him right in the nose and the sheets on the floor are crumpled and wrapped around their legs. Harry’s pretty sure there’s a knot somewhere he’ll have to undo eventually.

                He lets out a loud yawn and stretches his arms and legs, hearing the bones crack. “It’s too early for this twat,” Louis cringes at the sound and Harry chuckles.

                “Get up sleeping beauty, our flight’s due in two hours,” even though Harry’s putting on an enthusiastic façade, his heart is heavy like it’s made of lead. His leg knocks into the mattress and the next thing they realize is they have a face full of sheets and a heavy mattress.

                “Harold!” Louis groans and Harry giggles. His body is shaking when he erupts into laughter, “You and your bloody coordination. I swear. Get these off me.”

                Harry wiggles out of the mound of sheets and pulls the mattress away; allowing the freedom for Louis to simply sit up but the bastard isn’t moving at all. Harry shakes his head fondly and pulls away the fallen sheets, throwing them onto the bed. “Thanks curly,” Louis mumbles, turning around and hugging the pillow.

                “You’re going back to sleep?”

                “Hmmm.”

                Louis’ too comfortable to give a rat’s ass about anything at that moment and Harry knows to give him a few minutes to properly wake up. He gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek and hurries to the bathroom but he doesn’t miss the hint of a smile forming on Louis’ lips.

                When he gets back with a coffee and tea from the lobby, Louis’ in the shower so he sets about making the bed as it was and moving the furniture to their respective places.

                “Good morning Haz. Thanks for the tea. You’re a real angel.”

                “You’re welcome,” Harry’s sitting crossed legged on the bed, sipping his coffee as Louis hurries around putting on clothes, “I packed your bag since all of your clothes were everywhere like a racoon had gone through it in the middle of the night.”

                Louis clicks his tongue, giving him a mischievous dissatisfying look, “Thanks babe.”

                Harry knows that he accidently let the term of endearment slip when he freezes and cringes. He wishes he hadn’t done it though, he wishes he could reminisce the sound of the word from Louis’ lips without having his expression accompany it. It hurts a lot.

                They have breakfast first then checks out of the hotel with one hour on the clock. A cab is waiting for them at the entrance to the hotel and they make it to LaGuardia Airport in almost half an hour because of the traffic. There was literally a long queue of guests at the reception waiting to check out obviously people who are bound to fly to England with them.

                Harry’s trying not to let his panicked state show, his fingers are already trembling, he knows they’ll be on the same flight for seven and a half hours and there’s nothing to be jumpy about until they arrive in London but it’s just him, that’s who he is, he worries about everything. He’s wondering if Louis is feeling distressed, if he cares that they may never see each other again. He knows he needs to shake himself out of this and enjoy the few hours he’s having with the blue eyed boy.

                When the time arrives for them to board the plane, they take their seats in economy class and Harry is completely anguished to find out that Louis is in the middle aisle but two rows in front. “Humbug”, his seat is the window seat but instead he drops into the one next to it in defeat just so he can at least glance at the feathery haired boy in front of him and buckles himself.     

                Louis turns around and gives him a wry smile, Harry thinks he can see the beat look on his rosy face too.

*

                They’re half way into their journey and Harry’s nowhere near the context of tranquil. He misses Louis’ small body, his smell, his cheeky banter, his sarcastic tone; he misses how the shorter male tucks himself into Harry without a word and making him feel safe, at home. Harry wants sleep to take over so that he can just forget the throbbing ache in his chest and the cold air cracking his lips.

                He feels a presence near him and when he looks up he sees the stewardess. She smiles at him and taps the man beside him, “Sir would you mind changing seats? There’s a gentlemen who would like to have the window seat. I hope it’s not a problem.”

                Harry hope whoever it is, is a pleasant person. He doesn’t want to be by a knob or a loud snorer. The man stands up and Harry tucks his legs as much as he can under the seat to let the man pass through. “Of course, it’s not a problem.”

                “Thank you sir.”

                Just as he’s rigid waiting for the supposed person to take his seat beside him, there’s a soft whisper in his ear, “Scoot over.” And Harry jumps startled.

                “Lou,” he’s clutching his chest but there’s a sudden burst of joy pounding through his entire body, “You scared me.”

                “Good,” there’s a glint in his eye.

                Harry’s too happy to come up with a response so he simply moves to the seat near the window without a word and watches Louis settle in next to him, pushing the arm rest between them upwards and out of the way.

                “How’d you manage to convince them for a seat change?”

                “I’ve got my ways curly,” he shucks off his shoes and tucks them under him, “Now get some sleep. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

                Harry is more than eager to sleep now; he throws a hand around Louis’ shoulder and pulls him in. He cuddles close easily and Harry rests his head on his head, pressing a kiss to his scalp before nodding off.

                *

                When he stirs awake, it’s because of the stewardess tapping his shoulder. Louis is not by his side; his seat is warm which has to mean that he’d gotten up not long ago. Harry blearily rubs the sleep out of his eyes and stretches his back.

                “Would you like something to drink sir?”

                “A red wine please,” Harry requests then adds on second thought, “Did you see the guy who was sitting beside me?”

                “He’s in the washroom sir,” the stewardess hands him a cup of wine.

                He thanks her and takes a sip, pulling the shutter up so he can get a glance outside.

                Ten minutes later and Louis still hasn’t arrived which is making Harry fidget. He knows there’s nothing to worry about but he is worried. He has no clue as to what a person could be doing in the washroom just for ten minutes considering this is a flight so he decides to put reason aside and go check on his _platonic bro pal_.

                He taps three times on the only locked door in a repetitive manner, hoping that Louis would catch on and he does when he unlocks the door and peeks through.

                “Harry?” he’s asking in more of a questioning manner.

                “Are you okay?” Harry asks instead.

                “Yeah just,” he’s blushing and he’s uncomfortable and clearly not okay. Harry doesn’t know what overcomes him but he pushes the door open causing Louis to gasp and enters the small cubicle, locking the door behind him.

                “You’re not scared of heights are you?” he’s got Louis’ face in his hands, looking into his eyes for any signs of discomfort, “Are you ill? Is there anything I can do? What’s wrong?”

                “Slow down curly,” Louis is chuckling but there’s a strain to it, “I’m just recovering from a situation and it isn’t exactly easy to get rid of.”

                Harry looks at him as if he’s grown three heads, Louis steps away shyly and Harry feels a bit hurt but his eyes brief him in one glance and that’s when he sees the problem. He’s _hard_. Jesus Christ he’s fucking hard and Harry had simply barged into the bathroom without common sense.

                “I’m sorry,” he genuinely sounds apologetic.

                But Harry’s voice comes out raw and ragged, “Don’t be.”

                In the heat of the moment, Louis pins him against the wall.

                “Lou,” Harry moans biting his plump lip when he feels himself getting hard and rubbing against Louis’ clothed crotch, he’s so turned on.

                Louis attacks his neck, nipping at the pale skin, his hands drawing circles on Harry’s hips under the sweater. He grinds against Harry’s crotch, biting down hard on a spot between his jaw and neck which makes him whimper.

                Harry is breathless, he hasn’t had a proper shag in weeks, not that Louis is exactly one but they will figure out the complications later. “Fuck Louis.” He tugs at Louis’ hair and the boy groans against his skin. Their foreheads begin to produce beads of sweat and their cocks are straining against their trousers. Harry takes a hold of Louis’ neck and flips their positions.

                The older boy moans at being manhandled, “Kiss me.” And so Harry does, he’s too horny to lead a slow passionate kiss, he nips and bites at Louis’ pretty pink bottom lip, licking it and suckling on it. His tongue nudges Louis’ lips apart and enters his mouth, finding his tongue and playing with it whilst his right hand is palming him through his jeans and Louis is bucking up to meet his palm for better friction. He begins sucking on Louis’ tongue, loving the taste of him in his mouth; he licks into every crevice and draws stripes on his palette. He wants to taste all of him.

                The bulges in their trousers are suffocating and in one quick motion Harry pops Louis’ jean’s button and unzips his fly, pulling the trouser a bit downwards so there’s enough exposure of his lovely tan thick thighs. He licks his lips in hunger, he wants to adorn them in purple and red bruises. He traces the outline of Louis’ crotch on his boxers, running a finger in circles and Louis shudders at the touch.

                “Haz,” he’s pleading for release.

                “What do you want baby?” Harry whispers dirtily into his mouth where he’s savouring the taste.

                “Make me cum so hard,” he’s blunt and Harry is literally lost at that point, too winded that he immediately unbuttons and pushes down his own jeans before pulling down both of their boxers. Their lengths spring free, slapping against their stomachs. His eyes trace the vein on the underside of Louis’ cock, he wants to lick it in a line, he wants to kiss the tip and suck on it, to make Louis come just from the pleasure of sucking his tip. He wants to bite purple bruises on his cock but a part of his brain is still alive and telling him that he doesn’t know where they stand in this relationship.

                He cards his fingers through Louis’ locks and tugs painfully hard, making him suck in a breath and throw his head back, his mouth slightly parted then Harry grabs both of their cocks in one hand and starts pumping them together, Louis whines so aroused by how both their cocks fit snuggly in Harry’s big hand.

                The friction between the skins of their cocks is electrifying that he feels the shivers run down his spine. Harry swipes a thumb across both their slits and Louis’ legs are trembling.

                “Be quiet,” Harry growls, firmly holding Louis by the waist so he doesn’t fall.

                They’re both panting, heaving for oxygen but Harry can’t seem to care, and he latches onto Louis’ lips again, sucks on both of them and nibbles before tracing a line with his tongue from the corner of his lips to his jaw then to the spot behind his ear and down to his collarbone. Louis mewls at the feeling but then Harry licks the beads of sweat glistening on Louis’ neck and collarbones. Fuck if that isn’t hot, Louis doesn’t know what is.

                He’s still pumping their cocks, now faster, thighs rubbing against each other and mouths working mercilessly on every part of each other’s upper torso they can reach.

                Harry can feel the familiar bubbly feeling in his stomach but he knows he won’t come until something pushes him in the right way, that’s when he notices the erect nipples rubbing against Louis’ grey sweater, it looks painful. He removes his hand from his neck and trails it under the shirt until he can feel the hard nub on his fingers, he circles it smirking and Louis whimpers pathetically.

                He slightly pinches the nub and scrapes it with his finger nail and then Louis almost shouts if Harry didn’t silence him with his lips. Louis comes in hot white stripes on Harry’s hand. The sight of it and the trembling body in front of him, spent and wasted, so fucking dirty causes Harry to splutter his seed in seconds with a shudder followed by heavy breaths.

                He leans his head on Louis’ spit and sweat coated neck and breathes in deeply, trying to regain his breathing as does the blue eyed boy.

                “The best orgasm I’ve ever had,” Louis says in staggered pauses when they’re finally coming down from their high.

                “You have to say that considering I just jacked you off,” Harry smiles swatting at him, turning around to tear some tissues from the roller.

                “I mean it,” Louis is staring at him.

                Harry grins, “I’m honoured then.”

                They clean themselves up; wash the sweat off their upper bodies and heads back to their seats without a word about their recent activities. Conscience is telling Harry that he needs to talk about it; he needs to know what went on, whether they were okay or not but then he’s tucked in his window seat and Louis curled up into him like a kitten, so spent and sleepy that he immediately starts dozing off and Harry doesn’t have the heart to wake him neither the courage to face the situation. He could only hope that no one had heard their little quickie.

*

                Louis doesn’t awaken until they’re landing at the airport that is if you count the time when he woke up for a meal he had to share with Harry just because his wasn’t warm enough.

                They exchange banter and acts as close as ever through check out and baggage claim yet avoiding the topic of the hand job in the washroom. Harry can hear the pounding of his blood as they rush through his veins, his palms are clammy and his eyes are threatening to spill tears.

Why couldn’t he just kiss Louis and tell him he liked him? Why was he such a coward? He’s waiting for some sort of involvement from Louis’ side; he wants to see if he’s keen on keeping contact or if he at least feels this unhinging attraction. He simply can’t assume every guy he came across was gay though.

                They both call cabs for their respective train stations, luggage in hand, idling beside each other at the exit. You could tell that they’re treading on eggshells just by the vibe they’re giving out.

                Louis’ cab is the first to arrive and Harry helps him with the luggage, putting all his feelings aside, he just needs to concentrate on saying goodbye to the boy he’s grown fond of he guesses. Then Louis faces him, his fingers twiddling with each other while the cab driver sits inside ignoring the two boys.

                “I uh…”

                “Lou”

               They both say at the same time getting lost in each other’s eyes and then they’re laughing as they always do when they interrupt each other.

                “Thanks for the lovely memories,” Louis is the first to break the ice and Harry’s anticipating his next words but when they don’t come, he knows that’s it. Louis really isn’t looking forward to anything more, maybe he doesn’t think long distance contact was going to work, besides he probably has a group of friends and family to catch up with. Harry doesn’t want to feel selfish but he wants Louis to himself, it’s a rough decision.

                “No worries, I could say the same to you,” he shrugs.

                Louis holds out his arms for a hug with a smile and Harry goes in for it. Feeling the warmth and breathing in his scent for the last time. This was goodbye.

                “Have a nice Christmas Hazza and send my love to your family,” he places a soft quick kiss on Harry’s cheek where his dimple usually forms and gets into the cab, his fingers slipping along Harry’s very own as their locked hands break apart.

               

                “Where’s Louis?” are the first words out of his mum’s and Gemma’s lips when he steps into the household after hugs.

Did they think they were together or something? If so then they were utterly wrong.

                “Your son, your brother, your family member has come home after months just to see you and this is what you ask me?” he’s smiling so he’s not really angry.

                “Awww H,” Gemma pinches his cheeks, leaving them red and sore, “So where’s the lover boy?”

                Harry makes a face and rubs at his cheeks, “We’re not together.”

                Anne seems to take the hint and pats Harry, shouldering his travel bag then heads upstairs to leave it in his bedroom.

                “Why not?” Gemma prods, walking beside him.

                “He’s not gay Gems,” Harry sighs, it doesn’t matter he had given the older boy a hand job, most guys didn’t mind stuff like that even if they were straight, “And I’m not into him like that.” He’s lying of course but he figures that if he keeps repeating that he doesn’t like Louis that way maybe the feelings would just go away. He knows that at this point it’s not even liking but pretty sure he’s in love. The distance is like an itch somewhere inside his body he can’t reach.

                “He looked pretty gay to me if what I saw is anything to go by,” Gemma makes a playful arrogant sniffing noise as she leans against the doorframe inspecting her nails “And little brother I saw the way you looked at him that night and if your sulky mood is telling me something, it’s the fact that you’re gone for him.”

                He hurls a pillow at her, turning around to unpack the stuff from his bags, a smile wobbling on his lips. He loves his sister really, she may have a knack for teasing and pulling his leg but when it comes to his safety, she’s all protective mother lion.

                “Lunch will be served in an hour; I’m not coming to drag your arse out of bed,” she drops the pillow on his bed, dishevels his hair and leaves closing the door behind her with a click.

                Harry finds Louis’ Christmas sweater in his duffle bag; it must have somehow made its way into his bag when they had repacked their belongings since basically Louis is a naturally messy person. He takes off his top and pulls on Louis’, it still smells of him and it makes Harry feel safe.

                At lunch Robin greets Harry with a hug and asks him about New York and how well he’s doing in his major. Fortunately his family has left some decorating for him to do when he’s home which he gets to after dessert.

                It’s all very cosy and bright; it’s nice to be home again, to be surrounded by his family in the living room, watching Christmas films. But there’s always going to be the blanket fort and the bowling alley, the _not exactly Christmas but still Christmas_ time he’d spent with someone else buried in his mind.

*

The day before Louis’ birthday Harry’s too gloomy to get out of bed and Gemma ends up sleeping with him that night, hugging him for comfort.

On the 24th Harry hopes Louis is having a good birthday and he prays he’s happy.

On Christmas, nothing’s changed. The sun still streams through his window, he can smell bacon wafting from the kitchen and through his slightly open door, he’s wide awake tucked under the sheets but it doesn’t feel right. There’s no “Wake up! It’s bloody Christmas” or a warm body pressed against his. There’s no fluttery feeling in his stomach at the thought of presents under the tree or the fact that it’s Christmas morning.

He just feels cold.

Cold and alone.

Cold and alone on Christmas.

It feels like he’s lost a part of himself. A part of himself he’d left in Leeds at the airport.

                “You need to stop sulking.”

                “Go away Gems,” Harry groans, stuffing his face into the pillow.

                “Did you even get off your lazy arse and ring Niall?” It’s an abrupt change of subject but it works because all of a sudden he remembers his friends and he feels bad for leaving them in the dark. He hadn’t even phoned Niall to let him know he was home safe and sound, maybe heartbroken too.

                Gemma flops onto the bed beside him and hands over his laptop. Within minutes he’s got it connected and ringing Niall on skype.

                When Niall answers he’s happy to see Gemma, enthusiastically waving his arms at her but he turns to Harry with a glare.

                “You,” he points and Harry starts laughing, he knows what’s coming, “You reach home and don’t give a flying fuck about whether your friends are worried about you.”

                “I’m really sorry Nialler,” he feels light. Niall is pure joy, just seeing those huge doe eyes and blonde hair and baby face is enough to have Harry crack up because he merely connects that face to every happy moment he’s ever encountered with his best friend.

                “Are you okay though?” he softly asks. He’s in a dark blue jumper, a huge picture of Rudolph printed on it, Zayn’s nowhere in sight though but he can see they’ve done some decorating by the tinsel lights glowing in the room.

                Harry turns to Gemma with a questioning look and she sighs, “Yes I told him. Someone had to let your friends know you were home and you weren’t going to do that and if I’m the one for the task then you can’t blame me for the gossip.”

                “Yeah I’m okay,” Harry smiles, giving a thumbs up, “Where’s Zayn?”

                “Shopping,” Niall is grinning madly, “He promised the best dinner I could ever have.”

                Brother and sister both groans and Niall simply pouts. “You’re all mean. Only Zaynie loves me.”

                “Oh now that you say so, we’ll immediately cancel the dinner we planned on air mailing,” Gemma puts in.

                Niall plays along, “Please don’t! I beg your forgiveness.” He puts his palms together in a show of asking mercy, “It’s Christmas, you need to forgive the sinner.”

                Harry’s slapping his knees and laughing so hard that he nearly knocks over his laptop.

                The morning goes in a fashion of sharing laughs, baking cookies and other Christmas treats and Harry’s quite thankful. He hugs his sister in appreciation and says so.

                Around lunch time, Harry’s cooped up in his bedroom but this time he’s content, he’s feeling alright, he’s having a bit of a wheeze from all the laughing he’d done that morning with Niall and Gems but he’s forgotten certain aspects of his mourning for a while.

                The radio is humming Christmas tunes somewhere in the hallway or perhaps the kitchen, Anne has a knack for that but the surreal atmosphere in the house is broken by a single knock on the door, it’s loud enough that Harry hears it through his open door. He flings his legs off the bed, placing the book he’s been absorbed in on the table and descends the stairs since he knows someone would ask him to answer the door anyway.

                “Thanks H,” his mum calls out from the kitchen where she’s packing cookies into containers.

                He smiles as he passes by and clicks the lock, turning the knob and opens the door so he can peek out through a somewhat considerable space and _oh._

                He gasps and stills.

                He feels everything coming back to him, the memories, the feelings, the pain, the distance but this time he’s excited, he’s shaky maybe a light headed because he’s here.

                “Lou,” he breathes out his name as if it’s something so precious he could lose if he broke the moment in a louder tone. He doesn’t know if he’s hallucinating or if it’s real until he touches him.

                “Haz!” Louis finally speaks.

                When the words finally register in his mind, he throws the door wide open and flings himself onto Louis, “I missed you so much.”

                Louis’ face softens, “I missed you too curly. I’m sorry.”

                Harry pulls back to stare him in the eyes, his breath ghosting on the other’s face, he watches Louis’ eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and it’s cold outside but he can’t feel it because all he can feel is the love circling them, pulling them in, urging them and Harry wants to do it, he really does but before he can, it’s Louis who leans forward. Harry sees the way his eyes fall shut as he leans closer and closer and Harry lets go, he falls into the abyss with this man, closes his eyes too and their lips press together.

                They’re just pressing their lips together, holding each other tight and Louis’ hands around his waist. This feels more intimate than anything Harry could ever imagine; it’s like Louis’ trying to convey something through his sealed lips, trying to just savour the moment.

                Harry feels him pull back a touch and brush his lips against his plump, cherry red ones side to side, and then nudges Harry’s lips before slipping out his tongue and tracing a line on his lower lip. Harry lets him in, lets him relish in the tang of his mouth, he can taste the tea on Louis’ tongue which reminds him of their days together. It feels heavenly, it feels alright. He knows it’s going to be okay because this kiss, this simple slow kiss in the biting cold is a secret passed between them.

                When they pull away to gain their breath, Harry giggles and Louis’ fonding. Harry rubs their noses together, “We need to talk.”

                “We do,” Louis agrees, “And this time we will.”

                “How’d you know where I lived?”

                “I knew it's in Cheshire, I just had to come and ask the bakery you worked at.”

                When they turn around, Anne and Gemma are standing on the doorstep, proud smiles adorning their faces and he knows they’re just as happy as he is.

                *

When Louis was introduced to Robin, the man had taken an instant liking to him which was a relief because it was important to him that his family likes his friends and possibly to be lovers. After lunch they had all gone to the festive market in Cheshire to enjoy the Christmas delight plus the food and drinks. A filling dinner, desserts, gifts, Arthur Christmas and good night hugs and kisses later, they’re in bed, wrapped around each other, naked except for their boxers, content and warm when Harry whispers the words.

                “I love you.”

                A part of him expects Louis to freeze to back away because loving is a huge concept, a totally different path from _liking_.

                “I love you back,” he whispers instead, “I saw it a long time coming sweetheart.”

                Harry grins, twirling the anchor pendant on the necklace Louis had presented to him as a Christmas gift, “This is the best Christmas I’ve had.”

Their hearts are filled and taken by the other and “Sometimes,” Harry thinks, “maybe sometimes Christmas brings lovers together.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this fic, please leave your critique in the comments and also leave me kudos because that's what I feast on *evil laugh*
> 
> You can follow me on [tumblr](http://hazzabooween.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Merry Fucking Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!!!


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